


The Fire it Ignites

by limevodka



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Plug, Bathing/Washing, Comfort, Consensual Non-Consent, Group Sex, Humiliation, Hunting kink, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Sex Games, Sleepy Cuddles, Smut, Witchersexual Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:08:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24462538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limevodka/pseuds/limevodka
Summary: Geralt, Eskel and Lambert play a game of Hunt the Bard through the forest surrounding Kaer Morhen, where to the victor go the spoils. And then everyone else gets some of the spoils as well.Jaskier is their faux-unwilling prey and leads them on a merry chase (or so he would like you to believe).
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Comments: 91
Kudos: 720





	1. Chapter 1

Jaskier squirmed, discomfort becoming noticeable as Eskel’s a _xii_ wore off. The last thing he remembered was mucking out the stables, moving unthinkingly as his mind was consumed with working through a tricky bit of composition, before bruising hands grabbed him from behind and shoved him to his knees. Then nothing but the hazy mindlessness of _axii_ slipping over him.

He tested the strength of the leather cuffs pinning his wrists together as Geralt jogged through the forest.

He had wanted shackles for this but Geralt had shaken his head. _“Not this first time, Jaskier. The cuffs are easier to remove if they get too much – we can play with shackles later if you still want them after this.” Jaskier had considered sulking for half a second before really looking at Geralt – the witcher was_ worried _, genuinely fretting at the thought of Jaskier remaining bound for even an extra few seconds if he needed to stop their play. He looked to Lambert and Eskel as well - both witchers nodded their agreement with their brother. Instead of pouting, Jaskier had agreed to the cuffsand kissed Geralt instead, letting his witcher deepen the kiss for a moment before pulling back to continue sketching out their plan for this ‘hunt’._

Now though, he was slung over Geralt’s shoulder, Geralt’s arm tight around his hips. He could hear Eskel and Lambert a few paces behind them, their steps light as they wore only leather armour – the three of them had spent the last week clearing the forest around Kaer Morhen of anything more dangerous than rabbits and deer.

Geralt turned off the path, climbing up a rocky slope. The movement jostled Jaskier, and he realised _there was actually a plug in him_. They had agreed that the witchers would prepare him while he was down under _axii,_ but he hadn’t expected to wake up wearing a plug. Had it been just another aspect of the plan – whatever witcher had grabbed him just pressing it into him before moving on to the next stage? Or had they all wanted to see?

The thought of all three of them watching as the plug was being pushed inside him made him want to call the game off immediately and demand to be fucked right here. Had one of them stripped him, made him bend over and put on a show for the other two, pushing it inside him? Or had they taken the opportunity to force him to take part in his own debasement, ordered him to push it in himself, watching as he was helpless to even think of doing anything but obey, heedless of his own humiliation? Possibilities raced through his mind, each one ramping up his arousal until he thought he might expire on the spot. It felt as though all the blood that had rushed to his head made an immediate retreat back to his cock and he made a thoroughly embarrassing whimpering noise, garbled through the torn wad of musty fabric that had been roughly stuffed in his mouth.

“Stop whining, whore,” said Geralt, sounding almost bored in a way that made Jaskier want to scream – trust Geralt to find the most effective way to get under his skin: imply that he wasn’t worth paying attention to. Geralt reached up with his free hand and groped Jaskier’s arse before cruelly pinching the inside of his thigh, making Jaskier jolt helplessly. “You’ll as much cock as you can handle soon, you can be patient for now.” He heard Lambert laugh meanly. “He’ll have _more_ cock than he can handle, Geralt, even this little comeslut will be used up when we’re done with him.”

A shiver of excitement shot through Jaskier, a delicious thrill at the contrast between the degrading words, the humiliating knowledge that all three witchers could smell _exactly_ how much he loved them and the surety that the only reason Lambert said them was _because_ Jaskier loved it so much. All three witchers loved _him_ so much – as proven by the fact that they were willing to set up an elaborate scene in order for the bard to safely sate his less conventional desires. Not that they weren’t also enjoying it – they had spent a few evening planning this game – it had only taken so long because most nights all four of them got pleasantly overwhelmed and the discussion devolved into a scientific enquiry into how many times Jaskier could come before he was sobbing and mindless – “We need to know, bard, call it research for this game!” “F’ck _off_ , Lambert – _OH!_ Oh alright, keep going, in the spirit of enquiry. . .”

Eventually Geralt drew to a halt, swinging Jaskier down onto his feet. The minute his feet hit the forest loam he bolted, only to run straight into Eskel, who grabbed his shoulders and spun him round before he could right himself. The tall witcher yanked the bard hard against his chest, pulling him up onto his toes with a forearm against his throat as his other hand gripped the cuff binding Jaskier’s wrists. Jaskier could feel his breath hot in his ear as he smirked and whispered, “Shouldn’t have tried to run, little bird. Don’t want us pissed off.” Jaskier’s breath caught and adrenaline washed through him, sudden terror flaring in his chest at the very clear demonstration that he couldn’t escape this.

Lambert moved in front of him, crowding in close as he scented the bard. He smirked, one hand sliding boldly under Jaskier’s ragged shirt to pinch at a nipple, the other reaching up and pulling the makeshift gag loose. He replaced the spit-soaked fabric with three of his leather-gloved fingers before Jaskier could do more than make an indignant _mff_. The witcher smirked meanly as he shoved his fingers towards the back of Jaskier’s throat, keeping him just on the edge of gagging.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, whore, it’s not a complicated game. In just a second, Eskel’s gonna let you loose and you’re gonna run. When you get caught, you get fucked. Whoever catches you gets first go, but everyone gets a ride”.

Jaskier twisted sharply in Eskel’s grip – he didn’t even come close to getting free but he managed to turn his head far enough to free his mouth, grimacing at the taste left by rough leather.

“Why should I participate in my own humiliation, witcher?,” he snapped. “I don’t imagine I have a chance of escaping even one of you, never mind three. If you want to fuck me, just do it.”

Geralt stepped up to the three men, closing the circle around Jaskier and leaning in, pinning him even tighter between Lambert and Eskel’s muscular frames. He grasped Jaskier’s chin, tilting his head back against Eskel’s shoulder and forcing him to remain motionless while he licked a hot stripe up the bard’s throat.

“Because we said so, little bard,” Geralt murmured in his ear, gently sucking on the lobe before he ducked down to sink his teeth into Jaskier’s shoulder in a vicious bite. Jaskier _yowled,_ not able to shift away even an inch, forced to take both the pleasure and the pain and whatever else Geralt chose to inflict on him - and oh melitele, it made his cock _throb_. Geralt’s voice was mockingly soft and reasonable as he spoke. “And if you need more incentive than that, then think on this: we will grant you one hours headstart. If you can stay free another hour past that, you’ll sleep in the winner’s bed tonight and a hot bath besides. Otherwise, you’ll spend the next week on your knees in the Great Hall, plugged full of come and having your face fucked whenever someone decides you’re less trouble than finding a come-rag.”

Jaskier almost _panted_ , his face frozen for a split second before he visibly pulled a mask of defiance across it. “And I’m sure I’ll spend that luxurious night in bed sucking the winner’s cock. _So_ generous a prize!” he sneered, stomach twisting with the knowledge that he was powerless to escape.

Geralt moved back slightly and shrugged, meeting Jaskier’s furious eyes and smirking to acknowledge both the truth of Jaskier’s words and the fact that there was nothing the bard could do to stop it happening.

“And you’ll spend your time in the bath being a good little cockwarmer - I’ll make you sing while I fill your arse, whore,” said Lambert, sending another spike of heat shooting through Jaskier’s gut, his knees turning briefly to water. He might actually have fallen if Lambert hadn’t grabbed his shoulders to hold him up, breaking character for a brief moment to steady Jaskier until he could find his balance

“You haven’t won him yet,” snapped Eskel, tightening his arm around the bard’s throat again – he had instinctively loosened it when Jaskier stumbled.

Lambert smirked. “No, but it’s a nice thought, isn’t it?” He met Eskel’s eyes over the shoulder of the man pinned between them. “Motivating.”

Lambert pressed forward and ground his cock against Jaskier’s hip hard as he grabbed his face – Jaskier‘s jaw had begun to ache in a way that heralded bruising – and forced his mouth open, biting at his lips and shoving his tongue past Jaskier’s teeth as he took casual possession of his mouth. Jaskier whined, tasting copper as his lip split, writhing where he was pinned between Lambert and Eskel. He was pressed back into the body behind him, feeling Eskel’s hard cock against the small of his back. He tried to twist away from the assault on his mouth but a warning growl and a tightening of Eskel’s arm around his throat held him still.

Lambert stepped back and swiped a thumb over the bard’s reddened and swollen lips before laughing nastily. “He already looks like he’s been sucking cock for hours. Better get running, bard, the first thing I’m gonna do when I catch you is fuck your useless flapping mouth.” A fresh scent of Jaskier’s arousal bloomed through the air, all three witcher swayed towards the bard before they remembered themselves.

Eskel shoved Jaskier forward into Lambert’s chest, pinning him with one massive hand between his shoulder blades as he moved to free the bard’s hands.

With a twist, the cuffs binding Jaskier’s wrists slipped free and he was gone, sprinting as fast as he could through the soft green of the forest.


	2. Lambert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier's caught, and it's Lambert's turn with the bard.

Jaskier ran through the forest, too determined to put distance between himself and his captors to slow down and focus on whatever woodcraft he had accidentally picked up over the years of travelling with Geralt. He ducked between trees, wincing as the plug he wore made itself known at every step. He made it a respectable distance into the trees before the plug forced him to slow, then stop. He leaned one arm against a tall pine, making a valiant effort to keep his hands off his aching cock. He forced himself to take deep breaths to try to clear the fog of arousal and adrenaline, slowly straightening as he began to think through his options.

All the conversations the four of them had had about this game hadn’t prepared Jaskier for the reality of it – he was still helplessly aroused but more caught up in the chase than he had expected, his heart pounding with delicious fear at the thought that he was prey - to be hunted down, _held_ down and fucked hard. He knew exactly how the hunt affected witchers – their blood would be running hot and all that predatory instinct would be focused on _him_. Jaskier’s cock twitched at the idea, he could feel a damp patch growing on his breeches.

He squirmed in place – the plug was too small to provide much actual stimulation, but it was very _present,_ and now that he was alone with no distractions it was difficult to focus on much else.

Honestly, he really didn’t have any hope of escaping the wolves in any forest, let alone the forest surrounding their childhood home. The knowledge that he was so very outmatched along with the thought that the outcome of this game was completely inevitable sent a delicious thrill through him.

Still, none of the others would be inclined to go easy on him once they ran him down – even less so if he hadn’t even _tried_ to give them a chase.

Jaskier firmly dragged his mind away from the lurid fantasies of what ‘not going easy’ might entail, and trotted off deeper into the forest, minding turning over the bits and pieces of woodcraft Geralt had eventually, through sheer bull-headedness, managed to impart. He sloshed through a frankly freezing mountain stream in an attempt to cover his tracks (his ardour was thoroughly dampened for the next while, it being surprisingly hard to ignore wet and chilled feet).

After about three quarters of an hour, he happened upon an almost suspiciously scenic clearing, edged with elderberry bushes that he could easily conceal himself in. He settled in, sitting on his heels and concentrating on keeping his breathing calm. He allowed his mind to drift, starting to rock back and forth on the plug, now feeling infuriatingly small and serving more as tease than anything else, his cock starting to throb as he lost himself in increasingly filthy fantasies. 

All of Jaskier’s attention has centred on his cock, fully hard in his breeches, and the maddening sensation in his hole that was like an itch that was not _quite_ being scratched. He was so lost in sensation that he had no hope of hearing the soft footsteps that entered the clearing and moved unerringly to his hiding spot. He bit off a startled scream as rough hands grabbed him, circling his biceps and jostling the plug roughly as he was pulled out and slung onto his back on the soft moss covering the floor of the clearing.

Lambert – for that was his captor – leaning over him and smirked, one boot resting on Jaskier’s shoulder and keeping him securely pinned to the ground.

“Look what I found.”

Lambert pressed his boot down harder and Jaskier moaned, writhing helplessly in place as both hands tugged uselessly at Lambert’s ankle.

“Stop fucking squirming, slut, you’re not going anywhere. At least, until we’re all here. Then you’ll be putting on a nice little show for us. Gonna make you bounce on my cock while the other two watch.”

He whistled loud enough for the sound to carry far, signalling Geralt and Eskel that the chase was up. The bard only increased his struggles – “Please, please don’t - just please stop! Please, I can’t-- ”.

Lambert smiled meanly down at him. “Oh yes you can. And you will. Gonna make you scream. Gonna make you _cry_ on it.”

Jaskier felt his eyes roll back and let the absolute humiliation wash over him as he felt his cock twitch at the threat. Surely Lambert could smell his increased arousal, he could see and smell how slutty Jaskier was, how the thought of being held down and made to take it got him off.

The bushes rustled gently as first Geralt and then Eskel stepped into the clearing. Jaskier looked at them desperately – “Please! Please help me, you can’t _do_ this!”

Even as he begged he knew there was no help coming from that quarter, Geralt was already palming his cock as he took in the little tableau, and Eskel was looking appreciatively at the sprawled position the bard was in.

They made to move forward and Lambert snarled at them. “Fuck off! I caught him, I get him first. You both can just watch for this round, see if you can come up with something interesting for when you get his sloppy hole.”

Geralt and Eskel returned growls of their own, but reluctantly subsided and drifted out around the clearing, one either side of Lambert and Jaskier to where the bard could just see one but not both. Geralt opened his laces and slid his hand inside to start lazily stroking his cock, gave moving hungrily over Jaskier.

Lambert opened his own laces just enough to pull his cock out. He looked over at Eskel and jerked his head. “Come strip him if you want then fuck back off. I want to take a look at what I’ve caught before I let him up.”

Eskel dropped down to his knees beside Jaskier, easily pinning his ankles and pulling his boots off before reaching up to pull his breeches down over his hips and off. He laughed off Jaskier’s weak attempts to fend him off by twisting his hips away, looking up and meeting Jaskier’s eyes with a teasing smile before reaching between his legs and pressing _hard_ on the plug. Jaskier squeaked, hips jogging as the pleasure flashed through him, leaving him unable to decide between pushing back onto Eskel’s hand and trying to escape it. Eskel grinned at him again, happy and uncomplicated, before a cool expression came over his features.

“I know it’s difficult for needy little sluts to listen to anything but their cocks, but try to control yourself, bard, I promise you won’t like what we do to you if you come without permission.”

He reached out and gathered up Jaskier’s balls, squeezing them once in warning before pushing back to his feet and moving back to let his brother enjoy his prize. “Lambert, I hope you can manage to deal with his shirt by yourself.”

Lambert growled warningly before he lifted his boot. Before the bard could even consider rolling away, he was yanked to his knees, Lambert’s hand twisted viciously in his hair. His breath caught as Lambert smoothly dropped to his knees behind him and jerked his shirt off his shoulders, dragging it down and twisting until it pinned his elbows awkwardly behind his back.

The witcher used the makeshift shackle to force Jaskier forward, awkwardly up on his knees and bent over, held up by Lambert’s hand in his hair. The bard’s could hear himself panting, unable to slow his breathing or even find the wherewithal to struggle. Lambert slid his free hand down, between Jaskier’s legs, and tugged the plug free. Jaskier yelped as he immediately replaced it with two fingers, not giving him a second to adjust before roughly twisting and pressing unerringly on his prostate. Jaskier’s hole clenched around Lambert’s fingers but off-balance as he was, he was helpless to move. He let out an involuntary exclamation, nothing more than a breathy ” _Hah!_ ”

Lambert snorted derisively. He moved even closer, kneeing Jaskier’s legs further apart until he felt like Lambert’s grip was the only thing keeping from falling on his face in the dirt.

“You like that? I know you do, I can smell it on you. Moan for me then, come on. Fuck yourself on my fingers, whore.” He pulled out briefly, before pressing back in with three fingers before Jaskier was ready for the stretch. Jaskier jerked, a spurt of pre-come dribbling down his cock. He whimpered as he obediently tried to rock his hips back, struggling to find leverage and with tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Lambert ruthlessly fingerfucked him and grew quickly impatient with his weak attempts to push back, leaning in to put his mouth against Jaskier’s ear and snarl.

“I said _move,_ slut. If you can’t do what you’re told, what use are you?”

Geralt spoke up. “Not much use at all, I’d say. Slut’s only here to get fucked and he can’t even make it good when he’s put to use.”

Jaskier looked at him with wet eyes, whimpering as he met the witcher’s contemptuous expression. Geralt watched Jaskier’s feeble attempts to fuck himself on Lambert’s fingers with a look of scorn that made Jaskier want to weep, want to throw himself at his feet and beg to be made better.

“Please!”, he gasped, “I - I’ll be good! I’ll do anything, _please_.”

Geralt looked unimpressed and Jaskier sobbed, tilting towards him before Lambert refocused his attentions.

Lambert yanked his fingers out of his hole roughly, making Jaskier moan again, the citrus scent of his arousal mixed with the sour musk of his humiliation filling the air. Lambert’s cock seemed to grow impossibly harder where he had pressed it against Jaskier’s useless, bound hands. He steadied Jaskier with his hand sof his shoulders , and gave him a single soothing stroke down the length of back before he lined up his cock and pulled the bard down, forcing him to sit down onto his lap and take his entire length in one long push.

Jaskier moaned weakly, his eyelids fluttering shut as his head dropped back against Lambert’s shoulder. Lambert had entered him just on the wrong side of too fast, Jaskier’s hole clenching down against the intrusion and his cock aching. His legs remained awkwardly folded, leaving him with no leverage to push himself back up - he could only sprawl clumsily in Lambert’s lap, leaning back against the witcher’s chest. Rough hands shoved him upright before Lambert gripped his hips and pressed him down on his cock – forcing Jaskier to take him impossibly deep.

“ _Ah!_ Pl – I, I _can’t!”_ Jaskier moaned, struggling fruitlessly against Lambert’s iron hard grip. The witcher held him down for another moment, cock so deep he could feel it in his godsdamned _throat._ Then, just as he thought he might possibly be about to adjust to the intrusion, Lambert lifted him _upupup_ almost off his cock, holding him suspended for a second with just his cockhead spreading the bard’s hole before _dropping_ him, fully impaling him on his cock _again_. Lambert repeated this again and again, bouncing Jaskier on his dick as fast as he wanted, taking occasional breaks to just hold the struggling bard down on his cock.

Eventually, he seemed to grow bored with this game and he tipped Jaskier back against his chest, letting the bard’s own weight keep him in place on his cock. He slapped Jaskier’s thigh hard enough to leave a mark.

“Move that slutty arse, bard, make me come.”

Jaskier slowly began to move his hips, unable to do much except roll them back and forth as he tried to clench his hole rhythmically. He sped up as Lambert kept raining slaps on his thighs, leaving stinging red marks wherever he could reach.

“Fucking tighten _up,_ slut, or I’ll get Geralt to stick his fucking cock in as well!”

Heat shot through Jaskier’s gut at the thought and he redoubled his efforts, clenching his arse and rolling his hips, unable to stop imagining Geralt closing the distance between them, wrenching his legs up and apart and forcing his way in alongside Lambert, heedless of Jaskier’s pleas . . .

Breath coming in harsh sobs, his back arched and his head pressing hard into Lambert’s shoulder, he writhed on Lambert’s cock, tears gathering in his squeezed shut eyes as he finally felt Lambert coming – shooting hot seed inside him only for it to run down his legs, leaving him filthy. Lambert held him down hard, forcing him to just take it. He grunted as he came, his grip on Jaskier’s hips becoming bruisingly tight for a fraction of a second, before he remembered himself and gave an apologetic stroke of his thumbs.

Jaskier’s arms still caught in his shirt, he was unable to even reach a hand down to his cock which by now was so hard it was painful. Instead of allowing him release, Lambert shot a look to Eskel, who dropped to his knees in front of them, bestowing a gentle caress to Jaskier’s sweaty face before meeting his eyes and very deliberately reaching out to stroke a single finger over the head of Jaskier’s cock, just once. Jaskier howled, begging Eskel to touch him.

“Please! Please, Eskel, let me come! I – I need it, I’ll be so good, I’ll let you fuck my throat, I’ll give you anything, just _please!_ ”

All three witchers laughed. Eskel grasped Jaskier’s chin and forced the bard to look at him.

“There’s nothing you can offer me that I can’t just _take,_ little bard.”

Then, instead of stroking the bard’s reddened cock, he reached out and flicked Jaskier’s cockhead hard, making him scream again, head lolling forward and fresh tears rolling down his cheeks.

Lambert rolled his hips, enjoying the feeling of Jaskier clenching around his softening cock. He hooked his chin over the bard’s shoulder and spoke softly into his ear, his mock-appalled voice taunting the bard. “Where _are_ your manners? What do you say when someone touches your useless cock, hmm?”

Jaskier lifted his head to look at Eskel, but all that emerged from his mouth was a breathless wheeze. Lambert really, truly laughed then, dropping a kiss to the side of Jaskier’s head before pressing his nose into the bard’s neck for a brief moment. “Want to try that again?” he teased, sliding his arms around Jaskier’s waist and giving him a gentle squeeze.

“T-thank y – _uhhh!_ Ah, thank you, Eskel,” Jaskier managed.

Eskel gave him a condescending pat on his flushed cheek, for all the world appearing completely unruffled by the sight of Jaskier so undone.

“If you keep learning your lessons so well, bard, you may even be able to walk when we’re done with you.” He leaned back on his haunches, smile turning cold. “Wouldn’t count on it though.”

Lambert grinned into Jaskier’s shoulder, the fresh shot of arousal in the bard’s scent causing his cock to twitch inside the bard’s sore little hole.

Jaskier sobbed again, oversensitive and squirming and so, so desperate for a hand on his aching cock, but Lambert was merciless, taking hold of his arms and the blasted shirt again as he forced Jaskier up and off his cock. He used one hand to spread Jaskier’s arsecheeks, ignoring the flood of embarrassment that filled his nose. He took a second to just look, enjoying the sight of his seed oozing out of Jaskier’s reddened hole, before tearing the shirt off his arms and shoving him towards Eskel.

Jaskier fell forward onto all fours, so dizzy with arousal he didn’t trust himself to try to stand. _What must he look like_ , he thought frantically – naked and sticky and leaking come. They had all seen him beg to come, seen him squirm on Lambert’s cock, seen him get hard at being degraded, at being stripped and fucked and called humiliating names. Lambert took the opportunity to spank Jaskier’s upturned arse, laughing as he squealed.

“All yours, Eskel. Enjoy – his slutty little hole is still tight enough to have fun with.”

Eskel looked Jaskier over slowly. “Hm. I can think of a few ways to make it even more fun.”

Jaskier raised his eyes to meet Eskel’s, expectation churning his stomach. The piercing gold of Eskel’s eyes seemed to overtake everything else as the haze of _axii_ fell over him once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is now four chapters, this chapter was obvs Lambert/Jaskier and the next one with be Geralt and Eskel's turn. The last chapter will be aftercare time!
> 
> Most of the last two chapters are complete, they just need a lot of editing. Hopefully they'll both be up within the week, I think I'll probably post both together.
> 
> Again, concrit is welcome but please be gentle, I have a thesis proposal due mid-June and i am feeling fragile lol.


	3. Chapter 3

The haze cleared from Jaskier’s mind slowly – hearing and touch filtering in before vision. As he swam up through the mental fog, he gradually realised that he was on his knees and felt the heat of another body close to him.

He forced himself to open his eyes and looked up to see Eskel. The scarred witcher looked impossibly tall, crowding in close to Jaskier’s kneeling form. The witcher had loosened his breeches, sliding them down his hips just enough to take his hard cock out.

He had one hand cupping the back of Jaskier’s head, callused fingers tangled in his hair and the other stroking his hard length, inches from the bard’s face. Jaskier could practically _taste_ it, and he made a small longing noise, mindlessly straining forward to try and get his mouth around it.

Eskel’s hand tightened viciously in his hair, yanking Jaskier’s head back. He snarled in warning, lifting his hand from his cock to slap the bard’s flushed cheek, ignoring Jaskier’s pained moan.

He grasped Jaskier’s wrist with his free hand, guiding the bard’s hand to his hip and pressing it in place. “Keep that there,” he growled, and Jaskier did, obediently moving his other hand into place as well.

Eskel kept Jaskier on his knees in front of him as he slowly, teasing tugged at his cock, refusing to let Jaskier touch it for what felt like forever, before he moved his grip from his cock to tangle in Jaskier’s hair, both hands now directing the bard wherever Eskel wanted him. He tugged the bard’s face against his crotch, holding him still while he rubbed his cock on him. Jaskier moaned deliriously, senses overwhelmed with Eskel’s scent, his world narrowed down to the roughness of Eskel’s breeches against his bare chest, Eskel’s hot skin against his face and mouth, and the pinpricks of pain from Eskel’s grip in his hair. Eskel let him pant for it for a bit, so frustratinglu close to what he wanted and yet still not permitted to take it.

Eventually though, even Eskel’s patience reached its limits and he pulled Jaskier’s head back and pushed his cock deep into the bard’s open, gasping mouth. He immediately began fucking his mouth carelessly, not allowing him even a moment to adjust and Jaskier whined again, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Eskel gave no quarter, tightening his grip on Jaskier’s hair just to hear the bard’s noises grow more high-pitched and desperate.

Eskel pinched Jaskier’s nose shut for just a second, holding him still as Jaskier attempted to recoil, more out of shock than lack of air and found himself held in place. He released Jaskier’s nose, but kept his hand in place, waiting for him to react. They had played like this before but never when Jaskier was already so worked up and Eskel wasn’t willing to rely only on Jaskier’s scent here – the bard often smelled of pure lust even when he wanted to stop. He felt Jaskier’s hand squeeze his hip twice, the agreed signal for _no, I don’t want that_ and pulled his hand away, stroking Jaskier’s cheek carefully before sliding his hand back into the bard’s hair and beginning to thrust again.

He slowed his hips for a moment, keeping his thrusts shallow until he was sure Jaskier had had a chance to catch his breath. He looked down, only to be met by Jaskier’s wide blue eyes looking up at him, still wet with tears and crinkled at the edges with a silent smile. Jaskier tugged on Eskel’s hip, demanding he move faster, deeper – closing his eyes and moaning in delighted frustration when Eskel resisted, holding him back by his hair.

Eskel held him there for another second before starting to press deeper again, hooking a thumb into Jaskier’s mouth to hold it open, drawing a deep gurgling whine from Jaskier, the bard’s face flushing even redder with embarrassment at the involuntary noise.

“You were moaning for it like a bitch in heat a second ago, now you’re complaining? You’ll take what you’re given, bard, so stop. Fucking. Whining.” He punctuated each word with a roll of his hips, teasing just at the entrance to Jaskier’s throat before withdrawing.

Then, without warning, Eskel _shoved_ his cock in, leaving Jaskier no time to brace himself. The bard gagged around Eskel’s length but the witcher just held him in place, enjoying the sensation of Jaskier’s throat fluttering around him as the bard coughed and drooled.

He held him there long enough for black spots to begin dancing at the edges of Jaskier’s vision, before pulling back slightly but not all the way out. He moved one hand to Jaskier’s chin, forcing the bard to hold his jaw open as Eskel rested the head of his cock on his tongue. He stayed there for a minute, admiring the way his cock looked against Jaskier’s swollen, reddened mouth.

“Don’t move,” he warned, beginning to stroke himself off, rubbing his cockhead on Jaskier tongue. The bard squirmed in place, chest heaving with his gasping moans, his neglected cock dribbling precome onto the ground between his knees but kept his mouth submissively open, tipping his face up and closing his eyes. With a grunt, Eskel came, striping Jaskier’s tongue and pulling back so the rest landed on his reddened face. He pulled back to slide his fingers into the bard’s mouth, petting them over his tongue, through the cooling come, before he pulled out and dropped to his knees in front of Jaskier. He cupped one hand around the bard’s face, thumb cleaning his come from where it had landed on Jaskier cheek.

“Are you alright?” He could smell nothing but excitement and happiness from the bard but often Eskel needed the verbal reassurance when they played these games.

“ _Fuck,_ Eskel, you –” Jaskier cut himself off, flinging himself forward to crash his mouth down over Eskel’s in a clumsy, desperate kiss. He stroked over Eskel’s face, fingers running over his scar and petting through his hair. He pulled back, still breathing heavily and pressed his forehead against the witchers. “It was perfect, sweetheart, although I do feel like my cock may actually explode if one of you doesn’t make me come soon.”

Eskel laughed, kissing Jaskier’s sticky cheek before pulling him to his feet and sending him on his way with a gentle push. “Better hope Geralt is feeling generous then, bard.”

Legs shaking, Jaskier stumbled across the clearing to where Geralt sat, clearly having enjoyed the show. He was just a couple of feet away when his legs seemed to stop working. The next thing Jaskier knew, he was in Geralt’s arms, supported in a secure embrace. Geralt held him gently, letting the bard tuck his face into his throat and stroking slow circles between his shoulder blades. They stood for a moment, until Jaskier pressed a kiss to the side of Geralt’s neck and pushed himself upright with both hands on Geralt’s chest. Geralt loosened his hold just enough to pull back and look into Jaskier’s face.

Carefully, he searched Jaskier’s eyes for any sign that the bard needed him to call a halt to their games. “Are you alright?” he asked, one hand coming up to cup Jaskier’s chin.

Jaskier smiled at him, blue eyes soft. “I’m perfect, my love, just worn out. I’ve fallen out of practice since last winter!”

“Are you sure? If you need to use your word, Jaskier, there’s food and a fire waiting for you at the keep. You’ve taken everything perfectly, there’s no shame in needing to rest.”

Lambert and Eskel murmured agreement, both moving closer to pet Jaskier themselves, soft reassurance and love in their expressions.

“I’m _sure_ , Geralt,” Jaskier insisted, turning his face briefly into Geralt’s palm. “I just needed a moment’s recovery after Eskel’s frankly inspired performance--” He broke off to laugh at Lambert’s playfully offended “Hey!” “ – and I _promise_ I would tell you if I were no longer enjoying this.”

Geralt kept looking steadily at him, needing to be sure that Jaskier meant it, that he really did want to continue. Jaskier grinned back at him, before giving him a deliberately ridiculous wink which involved the entirety of his face. It might even have encompassed both eyes. Geralt bit back the smile that threatened and nodded, then dipped in to peck Jaskier on the lips before roughly grabbing him by the shoulder and the scruff of his neck and bearing him down to the ground. Jaskier couldn’t quite understand how Geralt managed it, but they ended up sitting on the forest floor, leaning against a fallen log, Jaskier in Geralt’s lap and facing away from him. Geralt’s leathers were delightfully rough against his bare skin and he shivered with happy anticipation.

A growl rumbled in Geralt’s chest and he spoke roughly into Jaskier’s ear. “If you’re tired, _sweetheart,_ then you can just sit still. Don’t. Move.”

He slid his knees under the bard’s thighs, hooking Jaskier’s ankles with his own and forcing him to spread wide. Without needing him to ask, Eskel and Lambert moved to either side of them, each taking one of Jaskier’s wrists, unyielding grips holding the bard’s arms out and away from his body, leaving him totally exposed to their eyes. Geralt’s laces were already open, and it only took him a few seconds to pull his hard cock out before gripping Jaskier’s hips, lifting him up, and pressing into him. Jaskier’s back arched as he moaned, forced to take Geralt’s entire length in his sore hole.

Geralt held still for a moment, enjoying the wet heat of Jaskier’s arse and the feel of the bard wriggling helplessly on his cock – pinned as he was at the wrists and ankles, he was unable to do more than writhe in place but Geralt had been hard for what felt like hours and Jaskier’s arse felt like heaven.

He thrust up, just once, revelling in the choked-off scream it wrenched from his bard. Then he tightened his grip on Jaskier’s waist, forcing him to still his movements. At this angle, he knew, his cock would be relentlessly pressing against Jaskier’s prostrate, driving the bard higher and higher. Jaskier held still, panting, every muscle tensed as he felt his hole clench every time Geralt _breathed._

“Hold _still,_ I said,” Geralt sneered, one hand keeping his iron grip on Jaskier’s hip. With the other hand, he began to Jaskier’s body, still held completely open to the three wolves. Geralt seemed to be experimenting to find out how many different sounds he could wring from the bard. He pinched Jaskier’s nipple, then soothed it sweetly before viciously twisting, biting Jaskier’s shoulder when the bard yelped. He moved down to cup Jaskier’s cock, red and straining, pressing it against Jaskier’s belly and covering it with his entire hand before moving back to feel up Jaskier’s chest, ignoring Jaskier’s breathy pleas to _pleasepleaseplease keep touching him_. At this, Eskel shifted, moving so he could keep his grip on Jaskier’s wrist with one hand and leaned forward to replace Geralt’s hand with his own.

Both hands free, Geralt’s assault became relentless – he slid one hand up to the bard’s throat, feeling the vibrations from his near constant whimpers as he forced Jaskier’s head back. With his other hand he stroked the sensitive underside of Jaskier’s outstretched arms, scratched his nails down his heaving chest and tugged at the curls at the base of his cock, enjoying the desperate whine this pulled from Jaskier.

He slipped his hand back down between Jaskier’s legs, prodding at the hot ring of muscle where their bodies were joined before squeezing Jaskier’s balls, gasping as it made Jaskier’s arse tighten around him. Lambert moved to help as well, circling his thumb and index finger around the base of Jaskier’s aching cock, holding it upright and still for Geralt’s attentions. Jaskier writhed under the feeling of three pairs of hands touching him, all their eyes on him – watching him cry, seeing his cock twitch as he was held open and exposed for anything they might do to him. He tugged against their grip, thrilling as he didn’t even gain an inch of freedom.

Geralt danced his fingers along the underside of Jaskier cock, up to the sensitive head, where he ghosted his fingertips across Jaskier’s slit. He gathered up the precome beading at the tip and slipped his fingers into Jaskier’s open, gasping mouth to be licked clean.

He did this again and again, beginning to rock his hips to provide just enough extra stimulation, keeping Jaskier just on the edge of coming for what felt like forever, until the bard was completely mindless, a fine tremor running through him – too far gone to do anything but pant and shake.

Eventually, the warm honey scent of Jaskier’s excitement was beginning to edge towards the burnt-sugar of over stimulation and Geralt knew it was time to bring the game to an end. 

Jaskier could feel the change in Geralt’s movements – a shift from deliberate teasing to focussed concentration. Geralt took his hand from his throat and the bard felt him press it warm and secure against his belly. With his other hand he reached down to where Lambert still held Jaskier’s twitching cock. Lambert dragged his hand slowly from up the length of Jaskier cock just as Geralt delivered three sharp slaps to Jaskier’s cockhead in quick succession – Jaskier wailed and he came on the second strike, every muscle clenching and his vision greying. His orgasm seemed to come in endless waves, he thought he might be screaming, he was only barely aware of Geralt’s groan as the witcher was pulled over the edge with him.

For a long second he slumped back entirely against Geralt, feeling Lambert and Eskel gentle their grips, shifting from restraining him to just holding his shaking hands, Lambert stroking his cock through the aftershocks.

When he could speak again, he found himself, for once, unable to find the words. “Melitele’s _tits_ , Geralt. That was . . .”

He trailed off, head still spinning.

The arms around him softened, turning a constricting hold into an embrace, and Geralt hummed soothingly, pressing a warm kiss behind his ear and inhaling the slowly fading scent of Jaskier’s lust, now tempered with exhausted contentment. Jaskier felt Eskel raise his hand to his lips, as Lambert gently stroked from his hip to his knee and back. He let himself relax, lethargy suffusing every limb, trusting the others to take care of him as he closed his eyes, just for a moment.

The last thought he had before sleep stole over him was that he had never felt so loved as he did then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for all your comments and kudos - I see them all and they bring me such joy!  
> Final chapter is pure self-indulgent fluff (which should come as no surprise given that the first three were pure self indulgent porn) and will be up tomorrow.
> 
> As ever, please shout if you see a typo!


	4. Chapter 4

Jaskier opened his eyes, the sounds of the forest beginning to filter back. His limbs stayed lax and sprawled, he could feel the strength of Geralt’s arms around him and gave himself over to the warm contentment of the extremely well-fucked and the absolute safety found in those arms. Geralt hummed, hoisting him up against his chest and readjusting his grip before he stood with the bard cradled against his chest. Eskel was beside them, stripping off his gambeson, leaving him in just a shirt. Lambert moved to help him wrap it around Jaskier without disturbing the bard overmuch.

“Come on, sweet thing, time for all good little bards to be tucked up at home.”

Jaskier could feel gentle hands on him, manoeuvring him in Geralt’s arms and then settling him again, now wrapped in a thick gambeson which smelled pleasantly of Eskel and was still warm with lingering body heat. He opened his eyes briefly, catching both Lambert and Eskel’s eyes, their gazes warm, before smiling softly and letting his eyes drop back shut, turning his face into Geralt’s chest and drifting off as the witcher carefully bore him home to Kaer Morhen.

He woke again in his and Geralt’s bedchamber. He was curled in against him, held securely against his beloved’s chest in a low chair. Lambert pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth as he moved to stoke the fire and fetch a covered plate of food. He returned to sit by Geralt and Jaskier, and proffered the plate of cheese and dried fruit, letting Jaskier choose from the bite sized morsels.

Jaskier felt as though he were drifting in a dream, the low light and warmth of the fire combined leave him dazed and exhausted but content, hazily delighting in having Lambert and Geralt close by, and the feeling of Geralt pressing small kisses to his temple and forehead, and Lambert nudging honeyed figs and soft goat’s cheese towards his fingers, silently encouraging him to eat. He did rouse slightly when he looked around and couldn’t see their fourth.

“ . . . Eskel?”

“Gone to prepare a bath for you,” Geralt murmured against his temple. “Eat, and we will bring you to him.”

“ _Mmm_. Lambert, darling, I seem to remember you making a most interesting promise about that bath but I think we’ll have to wait until I’ve slept.”

He looked over at Lambert, smiling with surprised delight when the usually cheerfully coarse witcher _blushed_ , before visibly forcing himself to meet Jaskier’s gaze, shy but steady as he watched Jaskier’s face.

“Was, uh, the talk – was it too much? I know you said it’s what you wanted, but it felt like a lot, buttercup.”

Jaskier reached out and cupped Lambert’s cheek. “It was perfect, darling,” he said. “Exactly what I asked for.”

Lambert grasped his hand, more relieved than he would admit that the honey scent of the bard’s sleepy happiness never wavered. He turned his face to kiss Jaskier’s palm softly, gently sucking the tips of his fingers before pushing his hand back towards the plate. “Finish your supper, sweet thing. I did win a night with you in my bed and I want you fed and content, not kicking me out before dawn to hunt down your breakfast”.

Lambert abruptly seemed to reach some internal limit on sappiness. With one last caress to Jaskier’s hand he stood and moved towards the door. “I’m going to make sure Eskel didn’t steal your bathwater, you know the fucking hedonist loves a soak. See you both down there.”

The door swung closed behind him and Jaskier and Geralt were left alone. Jaskier leaned back in his arms so he could look into Geralt’s face properly and smiled up at his witcher, contentment and happiness rolling off him in waves of honey and citrus. “Thank you, my love. That was everything I could have wished for.”

“You were perfect, songbird.” The quiet pet name slipped out, only ever used in these moments when Jaskier was so much softer and more vulnerable that his usual fierce self. Geralt carded one hand through Jaskier’s hair and they sat in silence for a few minutes more, the bard content to be held and petted. After the third time Geralt’s hand caught in a snarl he laughed and got carefully to his feet.

“Alright songbird, time for a bath – hopefully Eskel can get these knots out. Otherwise it’s the shears for you.” He laughingly dodged Jaskier’s attempt to cuff him as the bard gasped in mock horror at the thought of having his hair shorn, then carried Jaskier out and towards the small bathing room where Eskel and Lambert waited. Jaskier was happy to let himself be carried and petted, he knew his witchers needed to coddle him after their play just as much as he needed the reassurance of soft words and being held close.

They reached the small and snug chamber and slipped through the door. Eskel was reheating the milky bathwater with _igni_ , sending a fresh blast of lavender and chamomile-scented steam swirling through the air. Jaskier slipped into the heated water, sighing and stretching languidly as he settled in. He tilted his head back and beamed up at Eskel.

“Thank you, sweetheart, it’s perfect.”

Eskel smiled softly at him, stoking one hand through his hair before leaving him to soak for a minute while he crossed the room to a chest, rifling though to find a soft cake of soap wrapped in linen – faintly scented with roses, it was a luxury and it was Jaskier’s favourite when he wanted to indulge. Eskel moved back and knelt beside the tub, leaning in to nuzzle gently at the bard’s hairline. He inhaled softly, closing his eyes as he let the scent of Jaskier’s happiness wash through him.

“Can I wash your hair?” he asked softly, not wanting to disturb Jaskier’s peaceful soak but needing to touch, needing the reassurance that Jaskier hadn’t been hurt by their play earlier, that he still wanted Eskel’s hands on him. Jaskier nodded, leaning up just enough to press his lips to Eskel’s jaw. “Yes, _please_ , sweetheart.”

Eskel moved behind him, filling a cup with water and pouring it carefully over Jaskier’s hair before running soapy hands gently through the strands.

They all enjoyed this, the softness that winter and the safety of the keep allowed them to indulge in, but Eskel – Eskel _needed_ it. So many years spent walking the Path alone, doctoring his own hurts, bedding down alone at night and with no companionship save that which he could occasionally find in taverns and brothels. He had spent years with no one upon whom he could lavish all the tenderness that a hard life had tried and failed to knock out of him – his brothers loved him as much he loved them but soft touches from a beloved companion were as foreign to them as they were to Eskel. All the witchers had felt an ache they didn’t know how to soothe until Geralt brought Jaskier into their lives. Their fierce little bard had seen exactly what they needed, had seen all the joy and tenderness they could share if only someone could draw it out, and he had.

Pure stubbornness combined with the patience needed to drag the hidden desires from his wolves – whether that be with soft words and gentle kisses shared while curled up together at night; a shouting, furious argument where the wolves could see that Jaskier truly didn’t fear them and wasn’t about to be intimidated by their bark; or spending the night sharing vodka by a fire, playing cards and trying to outdo each other for the bawdiest jokes. They knew how much they owed to Jaskier’s perceptiveness and willingness to do whatever it took to help them find happiness, and they were determined that their debt would not go unacknowledged.

Lambert had lathered a soft cloth and moved beside Jaskier, beginning to carefully wash away the remnants of sweat and come from the bard’s skin. He slid the cloth gently down each arm, carefully over reddened wrists and stroked over each callused finger. He washed the sweat and stickiness from Jaskier’s armpits, the small of his back and gently between his legs – careful and thorough here as everywhere else but there was nothing sexual in this touch, just gentle care. He did glance up at Jaskier with a teasing threat on his face as he grasped an ankle and lifted the bard’s foot up to scrub.

“Lambert, NO! Don’t you dare!” Jaskier was laughing even as he scolded, trying to yank his foot back but getting nowhere against witcher strength. Eskel moved to grab the bard’s shoulders, keeping his face out of the water as he tried and failed to twist out of the youngest witcher’s grip. Lambert snickered, but contented himself with running his thumb firmly up the sole of Jaskier’s foot, pressing too hard to tickle, and Jaskier _melted,_ any remaining indignation at the threat of being tickled seeming to run out of him completely by way of his left foot.

Once clean, he drifted for a bit, enjoying the soft conversation of his wolves until the water cooled. Eventually, he let Geralt grasp his hands and pull him up and out. He swayed forward into Geralt’s embrace, letting the white-haired witcher take his weight as Eskel moved behind them, wrapping a towel around the bard’s shoulders and dropping a kiss on the back of his neck.

Geralt kissed his temple, then gently dried Jaskier off, patting water drops off him before tossing the towel aside to be dealt with later. He scooped Jaskier up and made for the door, only to be intercepted by Lambert.

“Where’d you think you’re fucking off to with _my_ bard, Geralt? He’s still mine for the night.”

Jaskier laughed as Geralt rolled his eyes, before making the handover with an air of exaggerated patience.

“Bit of an academic point, given that we’ll all be coming with you, Lambert,” Eskel interjected, mischief dancing in his eyes as his watched his brothers glare at each other.

“It’s not the point, Eskel, it’s the, the fuckin’ _principle_ of it.”

With that, Lambert stomped out and away towards the large bedchamber they used whenever they all came together to sleep in one warm pile. Despite the stomping and the fact that he was exuding the offended air of a cat that had just been drenched in water, he carried Jaskier as carefully as he would a precious artifact, settling him down into the centre of the large bed they all shared. He climbed in on one side of the bard, Geralt on the other and Eskel brought up the rear with a pot of salve in one hand and a determined look on his face.

Jaskier pouted. “I’m fine, really, there’s no need! I _like_ to have some marks after!”

Eskel was having none of it, and neither were Geralt or Lambert. “Let him look after you, songbird, then you can sleep,” Geralt coaxed. Jaskier tried to hold out, but crumbled on meeting Eskel’s solemn, pleading gaze. With a teasing sigh, he proffered his wrists. “Do with me what you will, darling, even though it pains me to lose your marks! I will have to rely only on my memories to carry me through the long dark nights!”

“That so?” Eskel asked drily as he carefully dabbed salve onto the red marks encircling Jaskier’s wrists. “Looks to me like you have plenty to keep you warm there.”

Jaskier nodded, a playfully thoughtful expression on his face. “You know, you might be on to something there, darling. Why don’t you come down here and complete the set for me?”

Eskel snorted. “I think there’s a few more witchers out there you’ve yet to gather.” He ignored Jaskier’s outraged noise and grabbed his ankles, yanking the bard down flat on his back whereupoon he was quickly crowded in by Geralt and Lambert. Eskel set the salve aside before curling in behind Geralt, his face buried in his hair and one arm slung over his waist. Geralt rumbled happily, lacing his fingers through Eskel’s.

Lambert huffed and reached down to pull the blanket over all of them, despite knowing that it would be kicked off long before morning came. He carefully nudged closer to Jaskier’s side, one hand resting on his chest and his leg thrown over Jaskier’s thighs.

“I can still smell us on you,” he murmured into Jaskier’s hair. Jaskier kept his eyes shut but grinned, stretching and resettling into Lambert’s arms. “Mmm _yes_ , sweetheart,” he purred. “I’ll smell like you for _days,_ won’t I?” He laughed as Lambert let out a low, filthy curse, Geralt and Eskel pressing somehow even closer around them with twin growls. He drifted off to sleep still smiling, content and safe and curled up with his wolves. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the last chapter! Again, thank you all so, so much for reading and for your comments, kudos, bookmarks etc, I don't know if I would have had the nerve to keep posting this if I didn't know people were enjoying it. <3

**Author's Note:**

> I have never posted anything before - the majority of the remainder is written but I have to find time to edit and college is killing me at the moment. Updates will be posted on Wednesdays.
> 
> Concrit welcome but be gentle lol - I haven't written anything in 10+ years so I am gonna be rusty! Also please feel free to point out typos etc!
> 
> I'm on tumblr at limevodka!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Robber Prince](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25942201) by [GoblinRuler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoblinRuler/pseuds/GoblinRuler)




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